


safe as houses

by Memelock



Series: the world's latest sylvain and felix week project [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), academy dayz, no sex in this good christian story but there is some making out so guard your eyes kids, there is some extremely minor dimitri and claude content in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memelock/pseuds/Memelock
Summary: And speak of the devil, Sylvain is the one who appears in the suddenly open doorway, almost earning himself a knock on the chest for his troubles. The girl steps back uncertainly, folding her arms, and then the boar is next to him. He looks nervous. Sylvain looks sly, the look he gets right before he’s about to gambit Claude into yet another loss at one of the tactical board games they insist on wasting time with. “Watch and learn,” is what he says to the boar, Felix doesn’t know if he hears it or reads his lips as his head turns toward Dimitri and therefore towards his spot further down the hallway. And then several things happen, in quick succession or all at once.The first thing, identifiable, is that Sylvain slings an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders, pulling them intimately close. Which lines up the next thing, or one of the next things, which is that he leans down to kiss Dimitri. On the lips. One of the other things that happens at this moment is that the girl’s mouth drops open, maybe Felix’s too. Another is that Felix’s stomach flips uncomfortably, then falls down into his shoes.//Sylvain may be the oldest, but he’s far from the wisest.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: the world's latest sylvain and felix week project [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747060
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	safe as houses

**Author's Note:**

> between dimitri, sylvain, and felix they have one braincell and only ingrid can hold it. this is for day six of the 2019 (LOL) felix and sylvain week thing (in addition to another one i did because i couldn’t decide lol) — i picked the “fake relationship” theme, but like… who said the fake relationship had to be between sylvain and felix? title is from “never let me down again” by depeche mode.

Looking back Felix has to wonder if the professor in their infinite wisdom had somehow known what would come to pass and had therefore assigned him stable duty for a reason. Regardless of whether it’s divinely ordained or simple accident, he finds himself traipsing back to his dorm room in the middle of the afternoon, sweaty and smelling like straw. Climbing the stairs, passing room after room of empty nobility, nothing on his mind but a hot bath to make himself feel more like a person and less like dung. Still plenty of time.

The almost peaceful emptiness is rattled as he approaches the end of the hallway where he, the boar and Sylvain are all quartered in one miserable cluster. Well, miserable mostly for him and the boar, forced to listed to Sylvain’s all-too-frequent escapades — which, incidentally, seems to be what this commotion is related to as Felix gets close enough to make out a girl… a girl in front of the wrong door. Dimitri’s. She’s banging on the boar’s door.

This he has to see. He slips back a little, still easily in sight but mostly behind a decorative outcropping of the hallway, out of the attention span of the distracted girl.

“Dimitri you open this door right now!”

There’s muffled noise, Felix can barely hear it but sounds like at least one voice. Maybe two. Is the boar in there with someone else? That’s more in the wheelhouse of someone else who lives in this hallway.

And speak of the devil, Sylvain is the one who appears in the suddenly open doorway, almost earning himself a knock on the chest for his troubles. The girl steps back uncertainly, folding her arms, and then the boar is next to him. He looks nervous. Sylvain looks _sly_ , the look he gets right before he’s about to gambit Claude into yet another loss at one of the tactical board games they insist on wasting time with. “Watch and learn,” is what he says to the boar, Felix doesn’t know if he hears it or reads his lips as his head turns toward Dimitri and therefore towards his spot further down the hallway. And then several things happen, in quick succession or all at once.

The first thing, identifiable, is that Sylvain slings an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders, pulling them intimately close. Which lines up the next thing, or one of the next things, which is that he leans down to kiss Dimitri. On the lips. One of the other things that happens at this moment is that the girl’s mouth drops open, maybe Felix’s too. Another is that Felix’s stomach flips uncomfortably, then falls down into his shoes.

The kiss only lasts a moment, Felix doesn’t even know if Dimitri’s eyes have time to close the way Sylvain’s do, theatrically, lashes sweeping down onto his cheek and _why_ is he noticing all of this. Then they’re separated. “Sorry if Dimitri here gave you the wrong idea,” he says, having the gall to sound cheerful, even a little flustered, playing a role perfectly. Dimitri turns to face the girl, slightly flushed, shrugging, but she’s already off purposefully down the hallway and although she passes Felix directly she doesn’t seem to notice.

Sylvain bursts out laughing, leaning on the arm he still has around the boar. “Oh wow, your highness, that should take care of that problem for you. She looked _very_ disinterested.”

“Sylvain, I am not sure that was the best idea.”

“Aww, come on your majesty,” he wheedles, and Felix has the strangest urge to step forward, say something, but he’s frozen in place, “she’s gone isn’t she?”

“For now, yes. What of the next time she sees me? Or you for that matter?”

The smile fades a little from Sylvain’s face. “Huh. Didn’t think that far ahead to be honest.”

The boar groans, throwing his hand over his face, almost smacking Sylvain in the process. “Sylvain.”

“Hey, hey, take it easy. We’ll just have to… keep it up. You know, fake it.”

Even from his vantage point Felix can see Dimitri’s shoulders stiffen. “Please do not be offended by this, but that sounds unbearable.”

Sylvain’s eyes soften, patented puppy dog look, and Felix feels something like that flip in his stomach again. “Man, am I that bad a kisser? Come on, your highness, we’ll let ourselves be seen around for a few weeks, til she forgets you ever tried to use one of my pickup lines on her—”

Ah. Felix can imagine now why such drastic action was required.

“—and then we’ll tragically break up. It’ll be no big deal.”

The boar is quiet for a moment, considering, letting his hand drop. “Hmm. Still unbearable but at least time-limited. And surely seeing that my judgment is so terrible will put off any potential partners.”

“Finally, something even remotely intelligent out of either of you,” Felix says, at last unlocked to step out from his tenuous hiding spot, and somewhere inside he is satisfied to see both Sylvain and Dimitri jump, the latter spinning out of Sylvain’s arm to face him. Felix scowls.

“Hey-ey, Felix!” Sylvain rubs one hand against the back of his head. “Can you believe it? Someone other than me is in trouble with a girl, _and_ it’s his highness.”

“You know, your little farce will be much more believable if you call the boar by his name instead of ‘his highness’.”

Dimitri’s eyes widen, looking hopeful. “Felix… are you trying to help us?”

“No.” Curt, but the prince’s expression doesn’t change. “I simply want to avoid somehow becoming responsible for cleaning up either of your messes. The more successfully this fades into the background the less inane distraction I have to deal with.”

“You make a compelling point,” Sylvain says, grinning easily at him. “Give us a hand, Felix.”

“Yes! It will be much more believable if we have someone already on our side — so to speak,” Dimitri reasons, brain working overtime to come up with that thought.

Felix hates that he’s right, hates more that he walked into this himself, hates most how thoroughly confused and irritated he is by the whole thing for reasons he can’t divine. “Fine. I will back you up when the occasion calls for it.”

“And,” Sylvain adds, eyes getting a little more of that gambit glint to them again, “you should keep an eye on us, let me know if we’re overdoing it. Or under-doing it.” He winks. Dimitri reddens.

“We will not be overdoing it, Sylvain,” he says firmly, and Felix for once is glad for his boar-ness’ strange and dignified standoffishness.

* * *

For a few days they settle into it, Sylvain coaching Dimitri on how to simulate interpersonal connection, Felix and Dedue looking on with varying levels of disappointment after he’s inevitably looped in on the secret.

They’re all crowded into Sylvain’s room one afternoon, chosen for its relative isolation, and the oldest of them is valiantly trying to teach Dimitri how to hold hands.

“Dude, you look like Felix holding a sword.” Felix glares but Sylvain doesn’t see where his eyes are focused on the boar’s incredibly stiff hand wrapped around his own. “You could try doing it like you would if I were a girl you like. And you don’t need to grip me like a lance, but you also shouldn’t feel like a dead rat.”

“This is too ridiculous. All this because you said I should… pursue someone.”

“Hey, that part was fine. The part that went wrong was you trying it out without me. Would you use a new weapon alone for the first time, or would you ask the expert?”

Felix glances at Dedue, sitting at Sylvain’s desk studying for his brawler exam, who meets his eyes his eyes in a mutual roll. Of all the things to bring them together. “You know, I hold my sword much more firmly than that, boar.”

Dimitri throws up his hands. “If you know so much about _holding_ things, of all topics, why don’t you demonstrate for me? I am clearly not performing adequately.”

“Hey, not a bad idea. Felix, get over here and show his princeliness just how tender you are with your blade.” Sylvain winks at him from where he and Dimitri sit on the bed. Felix huffs, not sure why the idea of holding Sylvain’s hand is suddenly making him feel warm. This whole idea is stupid, spending this much time with the boar is stupid. He should be holding his sword, not Sylvain in some misguided attempt to make Dimitri more like a person. “Come on, Felix, think how much more believable we’ll be wandering to class hand in hand, mooning over each other…”

“Stop your blathering.” He stands though from where he’s on the floor practicing his Reason. Why Professor Byleth insists on him learning it is mystifying but he’s not one to want to fail. Not even now, as he perches on the edge of the bed, Sylvain scooting back toward the wall to make room for him. Dimitri is still cross-legged at the headboard, and Felix has to admit he seems to be watching with an eye to learn.

“All right, Felix, let’s really show his highness,” Sylvain says, and his voice is oddly soft around the edges. Felix grips one hand into a fist, reaching for Sylvain’s with the other one.

And… their palms meet, fingers lacing together, surprisingly easy and organic. They look normal, definitely not like the boar, and in some way it is like gripping his blade after all — it feels right, a natural extension of himself. But the hilt of Felix’s sword is not warm and alive and it does not hold him back, doesn’t make his heart pound embarrassingly, definitely palpable where his thumb is pressed against Sylvain’s hand.

_Oh, no_.

“Get it now, boar?” he snaps, and his voice is harder than usual because it has to be.

Sylvain is all easy smiles as always. “You’re a total natural, Felix. Maybe you ought to be teaching Dimitri.” And he taps his thumb against the meat of Felix’s hand and that’s what makes him jerk it away. “Come on, your highness, just like Felix did it.”

He practically leaps off the bed, not wanting to see the boar “just like” he had been. “Dedue. I’ve had enough of this ridiculousness. Come spar with me.”

“But I—“

“What do you think the professor will care about more, your knowledge or your skill?” And what he says makes sense, it has to, because nothing else in his head does. Dedue puts down his book and they go, Felix specifically not looking back.

When they get to the training grounds, Felix sets aside his Reason in favor of gauntlets, needing something a little more physical than his budding thunder magic to pound his heart back to its usual rhythm. Dedue grabs a set as well, squaring up across from him, and silently they dance, swing at each other, dodge and land by turns and Felix is pleased at the quiet and at their complementary styles. Dedue is stronger and more than a worthy opponent, beating him senseless in the long run, but Felix is faster and doesn’t go down easily. When he does go down, Dedue offers him an un-gauntleted hand to help him up and together they drop off their wooden training gear, standing companionably in their sweat for a moment before they leave.

“It is not like you to seek my company,” Dedue says, almost startling Felix. There is no question.

“Perhaps a mistake on my part,” he admits, gritting his teeth against the honesty. “You’re stronger than I thought. That certification will be yours in no time.”

“Let us hope, in part thanks to your help.” Felix scoffs, Dedue placidly disregarding it. “But I mean outside of training as well, we do not spend time together.”

“Well, I’m not his majesty’s biggest admirer, so I’ve figured you’d be uninterested in me.”

“On the contrary. I admire you as a fighter. Although I admit your personality is confounding.”

Felix rolls his eyes as they leave the grounds, and the breeze cools against the sweat on his skin immediately. “Shocking.”

“Some people seem to understand you. I will have to learn from them.” Dedue offers this mysterious sentiment and nothing more. When they part on the first floor, Felix realizes he’s nervous to run into the boar, and maybe somehow more nervous to run into Sylvain, so he takes his time bathing and by the time he’s ready to eat dinner the dining hall is empty.

* * *

It is not empty the next evening, which is when Dimitri knocks frantically on Felix’s door and, panicking, says Sylvain is insisting they go to dinner together.

“Felix, he said he’s sure he saw the girl from the other day in there. Sylvain says if I go down there by myself the entire thing will fall apart.”

“And this has what to do with me?”

“You swore you would back us up. Felix we — I need your help.”

“What are you so frightened will happen if this nameless girl isn’t convinced by your ridiculous ruse, boar?”

He hesitates, hand to the back of his head, strangely sheepish. “Well, in addition to it being embarrassing to be so roundly a failure with women… I don’t want rumors to begin circulating. About Sylvain, that is.” Felix raises an eyebrow. “You know he’s not prone to… relationships. I cannot afford to fall into any other bucket than the one I have planted myself in, and that girl could do squarely that.”

He has a point, although Felix isn’t sure that either of them thought of that before launching their ill-considered scheme. It wouldn’t really be appropriate to categorize the prince of the Holy Kingdom as just another one of Sylvain’s flings. Goddess, what he wouldn’t give to have been privy to the conversation they’d been having behind Dimitri’s door the day this had all started. “You are making a surprising amount of sense. Fine, I’ll go with you.” As the boar’s face clears, relief of shocking intensity spreading unfettered across it, Felix looks past him, searching. “So, where is your lover?”

“Don’t tease me like that.” Right on cue Sylvain emerges from his room, where his door must have been open to hear them. Felix hisses before he can bite it back. “I know what we have isn’t real, your highness, but I can’t help but wonder…”

“Stop it.” Dimitri is red under his light hair.

Sylvain is grinning like a flame. “Oh, you invited the professor with us?”

“The professor?” The boar whips his head around so fast Felix swears he hears his neck pop, but their mysterious teacher is of course nowhere to be found, probably soaking in this brief respite from noise drifting from Sylvain’s room to theirs during the play they’re putting on. “Sylvain.”

“I mean Professor Felix,” he says, dangling a hand in front of him to the prince. “Come on, baby, just like he taught you.”

Felix’s heart is thumping in his ears, sending hot blood coursing through him, maybe because of _professor_ , maybe because of _baby_. Dimitri rolls his eyes and takes Sylvain’s hand, still stiff but much more realistic than he had been. Felix isn’t proud exactly but he does feel some kind of satisfaction, shot through with… something else. “Isn’t there anyone else you can trust with this ridiculous plot? Where is Dedue?”

“Brawler certification tomorrow,” Sylvain says. “Sorry, Felix, you’re up.”

“I’m sure Ingrid would—” Felix cuts himself off. No matter how much he wants to get out of this he knows Ingrid would never stand for this. She’s a born narc. “Well, maybe not.”

Together they walk down, Felix just slightly ahead of the other two, trying and failing valiantly not to think about Sylvain and Dimitri holding hands, Sylvain leaning into his space in that way he has to murmur something to him, a secret only they share, how little Dimitri would appreciate that.

Ugh. He’s almost grateful when they get to the dining hall, still leading as he marches up to the line, trying to ignore the turbulence he feels in his wake among the Blue Lions. And, he thinks as he catches sight of Dorothea leaning over to whisper something in Linhardt's ear, maybe beyond.

The stew in front of him looks far less appetizing than it had a moment ago when it sits in front of Dimitri and Sylvain. The boar is eating dutifully, trying to ignore Sylvain’s arm around his shoulders, his head tilted toward Dimitri’s, and Felix is gripping his spoon so tightly it feels like it might snap.

“Hey, Felix,” Ashe calls, cheerful but wavering from where he’s sitting with Annette and Mercedes, “could you uh… oh, you know what, just get over here.” And suddenly he’s behind him, hooking his fingers into Felix’s collar with surprising determination.

“I am _eating_!” he snaps, making to rise from the bench where Ashe deposits him, but Annette grabs his hand and weighs it down under her leg. He sighs. “What is with you people?”

“Uh, what on earth is his highness doing over there?” Ashe says, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is that Sylvain?”

“You mean the guy you’ve seen every single day for months now? Yes, I trust your recall and recognition, Ashe. Can I eat dinner now?”

“It’s just…” Mercedes starts and stops, glancing at Annette, who takes up the mantle of her sentence.

“It’s just…” She glances behind them at the table Felix had just been sitting at and yelps, eyes widening and whirling back around. “Uh, does Dimitri know what he’s doing?”

Mercedes grimaces a little. “I don’t think Dimitri can handle Sylvain.”

“I didn’t even realize they felt that way about each other. Truthfully,” Ashe continues, “I uh… didn’t think Sylvain _could_ feel that way. You know, being the way that he is.”

Felix wrestles down an unexpected instinct to defend Sylvain. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He addresses Annette whose eyes are still a little too open considering how large they are at the best of times.

“Annie just flusters easily. They are being rather... affectionate,” Mercedes explains, and then it’s Felix’s turn to snap his neck. To his surprise, it’s Dimitri this time in Sylvain’s space, one hand on his right cheek with his lips pressed to his left while Sylvain laughs at something. It’s very convincing, very domestic, very calculated to make Felix feel like someone somewhere is stabbing a raven-haired voodoo doll right in the chest.

“Well, they’re trying it out.” His voice is strained but not different enough from usual for the others to notice.

“They do look happy,” Annette admits, willing to put aside her disapproval, and she’s disgustingly right. In fact if Felix didn’t know it was all an act… at least, he hopes it’s all an act. It is. It is, right?

“Unless you have more questions I’m going back to my food.” And disregarding Annette’s body weight he stands, Ashe and Mercedes both half-rising from their side of the table, _more questions_ exactly dripping from their lips, but he’s already settled back in his seat, conscious of his loneliness across from Dimitri and Sylvain. They’re at least not completely pressed together anymore, and they’re at the minimal distance that he knows from being friends with him for so long is just par for the course when you’re with Sylvain. He is always in someone’s orbit.

As if on cue, he leans across the table and beckons to Felix to lean in too. And he does, Sylvain’s crooking finger as inexorable as a tugged cord around his neck. “So, how did it go?”

“Annette thinks you look happy.”

“Well, that’s surely good news.” The boar looks pleased with himself. “If we can convince our friends it will be easy to fool everyone else.”

“Are you fooled, Felix?” asks Sylvain, and in the chaos of the dining hall’s movement and noise it’s easy to pretend he’s not close enough to feel Sylvain’s breath around his name hit his face.

Felix leans back quickly, head down to look at his food. “I’m no fool. But I think someone is heading your way that I’m sure will be very interested to know what’s going on.”

Dimitri and Sylvain’s eyes widen at exactly the same time, shooting to meet each other in panic. “Ingrid.”

The three of them hunch down as if she might not see them, and Felix glances back to where she’s leaning over to talk to Ashe. He barely gets through what he’s saying, eyes darting back and forth between their tables, before Ingrid is straightening so forcefully her bowl almost overflows. Felix turns back around, but he doesn’t have to be looking to know she’s there as she drops, or slams, or falls like lightning from heaven into the seat next to him.

“Hey, Ingrid, looking lovely as ever,” Sylvain says, grinning, but she points her spoon at him threateningly and his mouth tightens up.

“You, shut up.” She redirects her utensil to point at Dimitri. “You, explain.”

“I am simply… trying something new!” And though the boar wraps an arm gamely around Sylvain’s shoulders, he is not fooling anyone at this table.

Ingrid snorts as if to underscore Felix’s assessment. “Well, whatever the hell is happening here, that’s not it.” She rounds on Felix, taking a somehow threatening bite of her stew. “You seem awfully accepting of this. What do you know?”

“I know I’m happy to see Sylvain with the same person more than once,” he replies, letting his irritation lend him credence. He’s surprised to find that in truth the thought of Sylvain finding someone to actually _be_ with annoys him more than the revolving door of people he waltzes through currently, and he’s not planning on exploring that thought more now or maybe ever. No one else needs to know that though and he defiantly turns back to his dinner.

“Fair enough,” she says, clearly not buying it. “This is too weird. Can you guys be normal if I’m here? Dimitri, I think you’re cutting off the blood flow to Sylvain’s arms.”

The boar jumps, letting go of Sylvain who is visibly wincing. He rubs his shoulder where Dimitri had him held. Dinner continues in the bizarre world that the most powerful girl in the world has forced them into by drawing the boar’s attention. Felix doesn’t know her name but he curses it, especially as Annette and Mercedes come over to the table after they finish eating to drape an arm each around Dimitri and Sylvain, offering their congratulations on something that no more than a week ago no one would have thought possible.

* * *

“Your highness, if we’re going to show any kind of progress you’re going to have to kiss me again.”

Felix freezes as Dimitri splutters, across from him with a lance in the training grounds. If Felix was going to be forced into this absurd circus act he would at least make sure some of it happened in his comfort zone.

“I seem to remember that you were the one who did the kissing, Sylvain,” the boar counters, as easily as he counters Felix’s strike with the shaft of his training weapon. “I’m not planning on any of that nonsense.”

“Come on, anyone who’s ever seen me out knows I am all about making out. Unless you’re ready to end this earlier than planned, you gotta be ready.”

“You’re disgusting.” _Insatiable_ , Felix should have said, but he doesn’t want that door open again. He swings at Dimitri again, catching his arm this time, but gets hit on the back in return with an upward swing of his lance.

“Aww, you guys like it.” Sylvain’s voice is easy but there’s a _right?_ at the end that goes unsaid and worms its way down into Felix’s insides, twisting where it lands. “Come on, you’ve been sparring forever. I’m sick of this, I want to go eat.”

“I thought you wanted to kiss the boar,” Felix spits, taking a stab at the animal himself that even he has to admit is a little too vicious, but Dimitri bats it away easily, sweeping the butt of his lance around into Felix’s knees, knocking his legs out from under him. He goes down on his back, breath whooshing out in a huff, and Dimitri formally presses the point of his lance against his neck for a moment before withdrawing.

“Your form is off today, Felix. Very unlike you,” the boar comments, insensitive as ever.

“I prefer to spar in silence,” he says, teeth gritted, rolling his hips experimentally and feeling a pop in his lower back that sets his body more at ease. The boar is right, though, he is not on his game. From the corner of his eye he sees Sylvain sit up eagerly as Dimitri moves to re-rack his lance.

“Your enemy won’t be silent,” the prince calls, and Felix doesn’t like how right he is again.

“Does this mean the Faerghus civil war is over?” Sylvain asks, and for a man that’s faking something with Dimitri, he bounds rather quickly over to where Felix is still on the ground. When he stretches his hand out to him, he accepts, using the leverage to spring back up. Sylvain brushes dirt from his back and Felix almost jumps away from the contact, his hand somehow still warm against him through his clothes despite the heat of exertion. “Your highness, let’s get some food or something, I’m losing it in here.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Regrettably, Sylvain, you will have to make separate arrangements tonight. The professor and I are taking Dedue out for dinner to celebrate him passing his certification.”

“What? When I got cavalier I didn’t get anything but Felix making fun of me for taking so long,” Sylvain says. It’s true, he did make fun of him. “Come on, not even one kiss for your fake boyfriend?”

“This is desperate, even for you.” Dimitri’s voice does not lift from its usual seriousness but Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind.

“Honestly, your highness, if the other day is anything to go by you need some work. I’m more than happy to let you practice on me to benefit some other lucky winner someday. Back me up here, Felix,” he continues, turning to face him where he’s storing the training sword. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of fully turning around. “You saw Dimitri and I, right? Did he look as stiff as he felt?”

“It was hard to tell,” he says carefully, neutrally. An increasingly insistent voice inside of him is repeatedly proclaiming that it would be terrible to have to watch Dimitri and Sylvain practice kissing each other, and not just because it seems like a colossal waste of time. “I was far away.”

“Well, if I’m going to stick with this I’m not going to keep enduring an unfeeling partner,” Sylvain says, undeterred. Felix does turn around at this, taking a couple steps back toward the other two. “Felix, come here and watch a little closer so his highness can learn something.”

“You have not asked me whether I want to do this,” Dimitri interjects, but Sylvain waves his hand dismissively.

“Fine, fine, we don’t have to actually kiss, boss. But the lead up has to be right. No one’s gonna buy it if I look like I’m half in love with you and you look like a living piece of wood. Let’s just hope we never have to deliver, I guess.”

Felix’s blood is running surprisingly hot under his skin, even considering the tough training session they just had. _Why_ does he picture Sylvain’s eyes, half in love like he says, lidded and leaning. He shakes his head a little, trying to clear his mind, ready to be a mostly-impartial judge if it means stepping closer to Sylvain. Whatever that means.

“I suppose that’s agreeable, but we must make this quick. I really mustn’t show up looking like this to dinner with the professor.”

“Say no more,” Sylvain says easily, and he moves toward Dimitri, putting them less than an arm’s length apart. “All right, this is how I like to start off. Ready, your majesty?” And when he’s met with a nod he reaches out with one arm, planting it firmly around the boar’s unyielding waist. “This all right?” Another nod. Sylvain’s other arm hangs, waiting.

Slowly and again stiffly, Dimitri takes one of his hands and places it against Sylvain’s bicep, and he groans, head tipping back, exasperated. “What?” the boar snaps.

“This is terrible. Felix, help him.”

“I have to ask, again, what the hell all of this has to do with me?”

“Just think of how much sooner you can go back to never-ending training if we manage to land this how we should,” Sylvain reasons. “Come on, Felix, what would you do?”

“I’m not one for romance. You two managed to pick the worst possible person to help you with this,” Felix argues, but it’s half-hearted as he steps behind Dimitri. He’s closer to the prince but the presence he feels is Sylvain’s. “All right, boar. I’d take this hand—” He seizes the one pressed to Sylvain’s arm. “—and put it here instead.” He guides Dimitri’s hand to Sylvain’s cheek, splays it there, his fingers between the boar’s and resting against Sylvain’s skin. He’s warm and he leans into it a little, perfect as always, disappearing into the role he’s playing. He feels Dimitri’s hand twitch under his, as if to pull away, but Felix’s fingers are unmoving over his where they’re pressed to Sylvain. “And then,” he continues, voice a little choked but he won’t think about why, “I’d probably have my other hand here.” He takes Dimitri’s right hand, a formality, and Sylvain’s eyes are pouring into his as he sends their fingers curling into Sylvain’s hair, between his ear and the back of his neck. Felix’s body is held at a distance from the boar’s but he wants nothing more than to vanish him from between them, to close the gap beyond where his stomach grazes the arm around the prince’s waist, to…

“You’re right,” Dimitri affirms, and it’s so jarring that Felix drops his hands, tips of his fingers cold without Sylvain under them. “This is far more believable. I believe next time you get any ideas, Sylvain, I will be ready.”

“Yeah,” is all he says. Sylvain’s arm falls away from Dimitri’s waist and the two step apart, Sylvain rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Okay. Tell Dedue and the professor hi and congrats from me and Felix.”

“I will!” He’s cheerful, waving as he leaves. The silence that descends as he leaves them alone is heavy, physical like a spell falling around them. Felix finds himself wishing someone would burst through the doors of the training grounds — Caspar, Raphael, _Catherine_ for the goddess’ sake, though he feels even Thunderbrand couldn’t sever the tie between him and Sylvain right now, rooting them to their spots, an arm’s length but no less away.

“You know,” Sylvain says, and he’s strangely not meeting Felix’s eyes where he tries to create a bridge, “I wonder if Dimitri thinks I’m just as bad at this as he is.”

Felix scoffs. “Someone as experienced as you? I doubt it. The boar would be lucky to be kissing a rock the way he’s handled romance so far.”

“Would you tell me if I wasn’t up to par?” Sylvain’s voice is a breath as he steps closer to Felix, and his arm snakes around his waist just the way it had around Dimitri. “It’s intimidating having to do all this with the heir to the Kingdom.”

“Not like you’ve never done it before,” Felix rasps, usual venom refusing to infuse his voice. “You don’t need any practice.”

“What if I want it?” And Sylvain’s eyes are lidded like Felix imagined, looking down at him. “You know, you put your hands in just the right spots before. I bet kissing you would be a real experience.”

It’s all too much, too like the usual Sylvain, all flattery and breath against his lips, and Felix jerks away with intent that surprises him. He steps back, moving toward the door of the training grounds, toward an escape route. “Then maybe you should have faked this with me instead.” And then he’s stomping out, ignoring Sylvain’s call after him almost as strongly as he’s ignoring the pounding of the pulse in his neck.

* * *

“We have to end this soon or your majesty is not going to be the only heir infuriated at me on the night of the ball.”

They’re in the library, notes sprawled over a single table, Felix on one side with Sylvain draped over Dimitri on the other. His arm around the boar’s shoulders, blond head resting against him. It’s surprising to Felix how much Dimitri has settled into the role over the past few weeks, especially considering how loathe he’s been to pitch in for them since the incident in the training grounds. It’s started to become apparent that the nature of skin Felix has in this game is changing, heart ready to beat out of his chest any time he sees Sylvain, hot slick of jealousy spreading inside him when it’s the boar who gets his attention, pantomime though it may be. If Dimitri hadn’t begged Felix for help studying for his lord certification this would mark the tenth straight day he’d been avoiding the both of them.

“Could you shut up, just this once?” Felix’s voice is harsher even than usual, fighting out through all the visions of himself in Dimitri’s position under Sylvain’s arm, pressed against him. “This exam is important.”

“I’ve already failed once,” the boar says ruefully. “The professor is already disappointed enough with me as it is.”

“You know who else will be disappointed with you if he thinks he can’t ask you to the ball? Claude.” Sylvain twirls a pencil between the fingers not casually hanging over Dimitri’s chest and the boar almost snaps his own as his hand tightens around it. Felix doesn’t miss the pink that shoots over his face either. “Come on, your highness, we have to decide how to break up.”

“I am very comfortable doing it here and now, especially if you keep bringing up Claude.”

“Even I’ve noticed you two looking at each other,” Felix admits grudgingly. “If it means Sylvain will stop tormenting me with this bizarre game then I encourage you to go after him, boar.”

“It’s not just looking, either,” Sylvain adds, voice casual and sing-song. “Sometimes when I’m out at night I see you two after the house leader meetings…”

“We are two people talking! There are similar responsibilities on our shoulders, of course we want to speak more.” Dimitri’s flush deepens as he protests, but Sylvain just chuckles.

“Listen, your majesty, I don’t care what you do or don’t do, but if we don’t break up before things go further between you I’m going to start getting jealous.”

“Well, what about you?” Confrontation sharpens the boar’s voice, unusual for him these days, and Felix looks up in surprise from the movement diagram he’s been trying to lose himself in for the course of the conversation. His eyes dart to Sylvain for a second and he thinks there’s a hint of apprehension under his usual grin. He leans away a little from Dimitri, though his arm stays where it is. “I am certainly not the only person you’ve been _paying attention_ to, not even the only person in this room!”

Felix glances around the library. There are other students in there but no one Felix can remember Sylvain being interested in, or seen with. Then again, he has been more avoidant than usual under the boar prince regime so maybe he’s missed something. He turns back to his notes and surprises even himself by sighing, breath slipping out of him before he can help it.

“Um.” Sylvain, voice hesitant before finding his footing under the mask again. “It’s gonna take someone special to tie me down completely, and no offense your highness but you’re not the one. What can I say?” And Felix glances up in time to see him shrug, neither arm near the prince now.

“What _I_ can say,” Felix cuts in, before any more unseen hands cup his insides and squeeze, “is that you should be studying, boar. The professor will kill you themselves if you fail again.”

“They would never,” Dimitri replies, but it’s uncertain, and thankfully they turn back to their notes. Sylvain stays surprisingly quiet for the rest of the session, even being helpful during the Authority discussion since he’s been leading a battalion for a while. Although there are no windows in the library to see where the moon has surely risen, it’s definitely late by the time Dimitri throws his head into his hands and declares that he’ll pass or he’ll die trying. Sylvain is snoring quietly where he’s slumped over the table.

“Felix, will you wake him up and bring him back to the dorm?” the prince asks, stretching his arms in front of him until there’s a pop even Felix hears. They’re alone in the room now thankfully, Linhardt evidently deciding to do his bizarre nightly research elsewhere for once. “I’m exhausted and if I have to deal with any more of his nonsense, I’ll…”

“I’m sure I can imagine what you’ll do, boar,” he tries to snap, but his voice mostly just sounds weary. “Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks. And thank you for your help.” He pauses. Felix is waiting for him to leave but suddenly he seems hesitant. “Not just with studying. With this whole thing. I know it must be difficult for you.”

“Why on earth would it be any more difficult than the thankless time I already spend with you two fools?” He knows why, every millimeter of him and through him knows thoroughly why.

Dimitri visibly backpedals. “Er… it’s just all the things you hate — levity, romance…”

“There’s no real romance, thank the goddess.” And he does, or at least he prays to her that there isn’t. “And I’m having trouble finding any levity watching you two being even more idiotic than the status quo.”

The boar considers him for a moment, thoughtful. “You should know, Sylvain behaves himself much better when you’re not around.” Felix quirks an eyebrow, not sure where this is coming from but not necessarily opposed to hearing it. “You know, no talk of kissing, no hanging all over me. Without you he’s really just going through the motions.”

“I’m sorry if my absence has lessened the believability of your oh-so-clever ruse.” His ears are hot though, Dimitri’s last sentence ringing in his head like a bell.

“If I weren’t so certain of how futile he must feel this would be, I would almost think that by helping me he’s hoping to make you jealous.” Felix opens his mouth but splutters, choking on words he doesn’t have ready. The boar continues without addressing this. “Or maybe not to make you jealous, but to wake you up. Not his plan from the beginning, surely, but maybe a welcome side effect. You’ve seen the way he and Claude can be with their board games—” he blushes a little at the name “—always trying to use one thing or another to their advantage, trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“You are out of your mind. More so than usual.” The words finally come out, tumbling over the crest of the wave rising inside him, all the impossible things he’s been thinking and feeling suddenly dangling somewhere in his reach. “Go to bed, boar. I don’t want the professor coming for my head if you fail your exam from exhaustion.”

Dimitri winces at the possibility of failing, waving as he turns to leave. When he’s gone, all that remains is Felix, candlelight, and the hot pump of his heart as he listens to Sylvain’s continued snoring.

Sometimes as kids, when they’d had a sleepover, that snoring had actually been comforting in some way, helping Felix fall asleep. The feelings he’d lived with so intimately as a child now have to fit into the box he’s put them in, keeping them at bay. He and Sylvain are similar in that way, he thinks, they just show it differently — Sylvain in a series of glittering masks, always the right thing for the occasion and never the truth, Felix inaccessible behind walls tall enough that no one could climb them even if they wanted to.

Almost never. Almost no one. It must be late.

“Sylvain,” he murmurs, quieter certainly than he could have been. “Sylvain, wake up.” No response beyond the rhythmic inhale and exhale of the person who had done the least amount of work that night. Typical. “Sylvain.” A little louder but he’s nervous of rousing one of the professors with rooms on this floor — or worse yet, Rhea. Worst of all Seteth. The thought actually sends a chill up his spine and rather than keep talking he moves to Sylvain’s side, dropping into the chair next to him and laying a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He says his name, one more time, and though he meant to be quieter he didn’t mean at all the breathy whisper that leaves him. Sylvain stirs, reaching one hand up from the table where it’s supporting his head and — goddess — clamping it over Felix’s, tight as a vise.

“Uh.” Felix can feel himself actually start sweating, pulse racing hard. “Sylvain, it’s Felix, the boar went to bed. Which is where you should be too.”

Wherever the saints are they’re laughing as Sylvain purposefully threads his fingers between Felix’s, holding when he tries to pull away. “If I’m doing this in my sleep it’s okay, right?” It’s a murmur pressed into his own arm but Felix catches it.

“Maybe. But you’re not sleeping.”

“Shh, I’m talking in my sleep. It’s late. The professor will be pissed if I’m late to class again tomorrow. I’ll tell them it was your fault.” He has the audacity to stroke his thumb against Felix’s hand, careless of the fire and sparks it sends up his arm.

“You’re infuriating. Let go of me and get up. Don’t make me yell at you or Seteth will wake up and then we’ll both be dead.”

“Just like we promised.” And Felix sees the corner of his mouth above his arm twist into a grin.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He does, warm and sleep-clouded, looking right up at Felix and filling his whole body with that embarrassing wave from earlier. “You are getting out of that chair and you are going to bed.”

“All right, dad,” Sylvain replies, dropping his hand and leaving him cold on his shoulder for a moment before Felix steps back. When he stands, Sylvain rolls his neck, groaning a little, and Felix can’t help but watch his body move under and above his uniform. _Disgusting_. “Walk me back?”

“We’re going to the same place,” he says, rolling his eyes, but as usual Sylvain just smiles. The walk back to the dorms feels longer than usual, stretched by the silence between them. Sylvain seems to pass through it easily, expression a little thoughtful and still sleepy, but Felix is wound up with nothing but the pulse still beating in his ears, remembering their hands linked and the boar’s words. 

They reach Felix’s door first and he’s so split between wanting to shut himself inside and wanting to sprint away from all of this that he just freezes. Sylvain stops too, intentional rather than reactive, like he was planning that the whole time. “Hey Felix, I wanted to say something if that’s okay.” As if he’d ever shut up. Felix nods. “Remember what you said at the training grounds? About how I should have faked this thing with Dimitri with you instead?” 

He nods again, feels his face flushing under the torches lighting the hallway. “What of it?” Sylvain is very close to him, in his space, and the awareness of how easy it would be to reach out and touch him is making Felix’s skin crawl in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.

“Don’t freak out. But…” He rubs the back of his neck, self-consciously, then rests his hand against the wall next to Felix on the downswing, closing so much of the gap between them that his heart stops for a second. “I’d never be able to fake something like that with you.”

Oh. The breath he’d been holding whooshes out, guts tumbling into his shoes as though the floor of his body had dropped out, and if he’d been making eye contact with Sylvain he might have seen something like hurt flashing there.

“Wait, Felix, I just mean—” The hand not leaning on the wall suddenly finds purchase under Felix’s chin and Sylvain nudges him up. “Felix, look at me. I just mean…” When he does look at Sylvain his eyes are warm with the torchlight, burning, real the way they never are with Dimitri, with the girls, and as much as he hates eye contact he can’t look away. “I just mean it would never be fake. With you.”

For a moment it almost feels like Felix’s head has been chopped off, Sylvain’s hand still against his skin the only thing rooting him to reality. Okay. He tries to breathe, tries to look anywhere but into Sylvain’s eyes, dropped to Felix’s lips where they’re parted in surprise, helpless against the hot tide rising inside him. “Sylvain.”

His eyes flick, a tease, up to his for a moment, before dropping back to his mouth. “His highness won’t love it if I kiss you while we’re still together.”

“You’re breaking up with him anyway.” When Felix speaks, his voice is weaker than he’d like so he moves with resolution instead. Just like in the training grounds, one hand in Sylvain’s hair and the other on his cheek, warm and a little rough, he reaches for him and then he’s on his toes, slotting his lips to Sylvain’s.

He’s not especially gentle with the pressure, curling his fingers tightly in his hair as the heat spreads slowly down from his mouth to the rest of him in the space of the moment they press, unmoving, against each other. Then Sylvain’s arm snakes around his waist, out of order from their theater but just as satisfying, and his mouth opens against Felix’s. Sylvain’s tongue crawls along his bottom lip, sending a shiver through him that rockets to his core, and he responds blindly, pushing into his mouth wherever he can find purchase. Their bodies mold together, softening, pliant. Felix’s head tilts to the right, then to the left, then centered with his nose against Sylvain’s, lips meeting over and over again in a tangle of hot breath and slick spit.

It would be so easy, Felix thinks as his hands drift to Sylvain’s neck, grab handfuls of his shirt at his shoulders, as his teeth grip his bottom lip and pull, tugging a groan out of him. So easy to just open the door behind him, let Sylvain in, one more way on top of the ways Felix already, always has. It would be easy as Sylvain dips to his neck, eyes burning where they meet his for a moment looking for the wordless permission that he breathlessly gives, almost as intensely as his mouth does where it presses, half open, against the skin he finds there. Felix parts his lips involuntarily, noise ready to escape whether he likes it or not, but a flash of Seteth’s face threatens to ruin this already unbelievable scene and he raises his hand to cover his mouth.

But he doesn’t get there. Sylvain’s hand, the one holding him in place, catches his wrist, and he’s looking at him again with something a little dark in his eyes as he pushes his arm to the wall, pinning it there for a moment with intention, then reaches his own hand up to take its place over Felix’s mouth.

It would be the easiest thing in the world, he thinks as heat flames through him, mouth parted and lascivious, muffled against Sylvain’s palm. With renewed confidence Sylvain tugs down the shirt of his uniform and anchors himself just above his collarbone, sucking hard, and the pressure makes Felix dizzy, sends his hand back to Sylvain’s hair and his tongue out to drag a slick, disgusting, hot line across his palm and Sylvain hides a moan against his skin.

Easy. So easy. _Just like all the other girls_.

Felix stiffens, Sylvain feels it instantly and backs away, palm dropping from his mouth. He unwinds his arm from where it’s wrapped so tightly around his waist but leaves a tentative hand at his hip. “What’s up?” he asks, voice raspy, lips swollen. “Everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not… really.” Felix struggles to get the words out, panting and hard and half wishing Sylvain would just pin him down and draw all his thoughts out through his mouth. “I just… don’t want to be another distraction for you.”

Sylvain chuckles, low and thrumming through him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed how close we stick together in battle but you’re already something of a distraction.”

Oh goddess. “I mean I don’t want to be _just_ a distraction.” Felix isn’t looking at him, face heating up in the fire of vulnerability. “And of course you’re still seeing the boar and I’m fucking sick of playing second fiddle to him.”

There’s a pause. He doesn’t know what’s going through Sylvain’s mind because he still won’t even try to make eye contact. “You know,” he says after a moment, pressing gentle fingers to his cheek that Felix tries to pretend aren’t still a little tacky from his tongue, turning him towards him again. He holds his gaze for one second, unable to do any more but unable to do any less, and Sylvain’s eyes are soft and hot. “You’re a pretty lucky guy, Felix.”

He actually laughs at that, one quick sound, harsh and grating. “You’ll have to explain that one to me.”

“First of all, you should know this already but I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.” Sylvain leans in against the cheek not still palmed by him, voice low. “As diverting as you are, you’re no distraction. You’re the goal.” Normally Felix would slap him, snap at him for such a stupid line, and though he feels the instinct rise from his unconscious he bats it back down because Sylvain is being _sincere_ , and Felix doesn’t think the line is that stupid after all, and his heart feels like it’s expanding and being squeezed simultaneously as Sylvain kisses his cheek. And of everything that’s happened, this is the most intimate, this is what makes him gasp, and this is what would make it easiest of all to just let the door of his room close behind both of them. He winds an arm around Sylvain’s neck, pulling his body against his again, finding that he had missed it in its absence and Sylvain laughs as he reciprocates. Not his stupid chuckle, not the half-giggle Felix knows so well from watching him with women, he laughs.

“Okay, that was the first thing,” he says, voice low and right in Sylvain’s ear where their faces are still pressed together. “What’s the other reason I’m lucky?”

This time he does chuckle, but Felix doesn’t mind it as much when he can feel it coursing between them like a river. “I just figured out the perfect way to break it off with his highness.”

* * *

Felix is almost embarrassed for him, almost, at how readily Claude goes along with Sylvain’s plan, half-baked as usual. But Claude is sharp and he relishes a scheme and before he even knows what the goal is he jumps in hearing that the boar is involved.

“Any chance to fluster his princeliness,” Claude offers when Felix asks, suspicious why he’s along for the ride so willingly. And the wink he gives him makes Felix understand Dimitri a little more, makes him trap Sylvain in an empty classroom after their planning session and kiss him to breathlessness and laughter.

They arrange it carefully, one last scene in the play they’re staging. Sylvain will invite Claude to another board game session, his room as usual since Claude’s is too disordered with books to be anywhere near relaxing for Sylvain, and though Claude always protests that this is just something to give Sylvain a competitive edge he doesn’t change the routine. So it would be totally normal for Claude to be going to Sylvain’s room after the house leader meeting, totally normal to invite Dimitri to the game night since he’s walking that way anyway.

Felix, from his position perched on Sylvain’s desk chair, kills time imagining what Claude and the boar are talking about on their way to the dorms. They’re probably walking slowly. Dimitri is probably not saying much, just listening with that stupid look in his eyes, staring at poor Claude the whole time.

Well, he says _poor Claude_ , but the guy seems to love getting attention at least as much as Dimitri loves giving it.

Sylvain putters around domestically, setting up the pieces neatly on the box that will serve as their tabletop on the floor in the center of the room. “You can help if you want,” he remarks, not bothering to look up as if he already knows the answer.

“No thanks,” Felix replies, unable to resist a tiny uptick at the corners of his mouth knowing how predictable this all probably is. “I’m helping quite enough later on as it is.”

“Fair enough. I’d rather you pitch in on that part with all your energy anyway.” And now Sylvain looks up at him, meeting his grin with his own.

“You’re insatiable,” he reminds him, but there’s no anger in his voice. In fact, somewhere inside the walls, Felix likes, relishes being the object of Sylvain’s attention. “How will we know they’re ready?”

“Claude said he’d talk loud enough for us to hear him when he’s close,” Sylvain replies, putting the last piece into place. “The house leads meeting should be over in a few minutes from what he told me. Maybe we should practice our act.” He winks up at Felix, who rolls his eyes.

“It sounded earlier like you had a brilliant idea for what exactly we’ll be doing. Show me.”

“It’s hot when you beg for it,” he teases. Felix could watch that wolfish grin all night. Maybe someday he will. But for now he glares at Sylvain, who laughs as he rises. “Kidding, kidding. I guess if I wanted banter or a sense of humor I should have fallen for someone—”

His voice chokes off, freezing where he’s half-risen, hand on his bed for leverage. Felix feels his eyes widen, his mouth fall open, but mostly he feels the hammer of Sylvain’s words smashing over his head, sending it spinning.

“Um.” Sylvain stands the rest of the way slowly, hand at the back of his neck, cheeks actually a little pink. “I was planning to wait a little longer before letting that one out.”

“Longer than, what, a week?” Felix manages to get it out, past the invisible hand squeezing around his throat. “You’re the model of restraint.”

“Nine days, actually, but who’s counting?” He’s really blushing now, and Felix tries to ignore what that’s doing to him.

“It’s not like we have anything official to count from, right? What, we make out a few times and now we have an _anniversary_ and you’re falling for…?” He purposefully trails off where Sylvain had. “What’s happening here?”

“Ugh, I’m doing this all wrong.” Sylvain sighs, crossing the room to jump up onto the desk, setting himself next to and slightly above Felix in the chair. “I guess I might as well put it all out there now. If I hold your hand will you smack me?”

“No,” Felix says, and he reaches out to save Sylvain the trouble. Sylvain takes the palm he offers between both of his, glint in his eyes like hot bronze.

“Okay. Okay, so. Don’t be mad at me but… I’ve really liked you for a while. Like a while.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, you’re mad a lot. And also because I’ve been pretending to be dating Dimitri for like a month and I haven’t even properly asked you out.”

“I suppose I should still be mad about that.” But he’s not, of course he’s not, mostly he’s warming up inside, glowing in Sylvain’s light.

“I wouldn’t blame you. Honestly making you jealous wasn’t why I came up with the idea but it didn’t hurt.”

“The boar said as much to me,” Felix offers, and Sylvain winces.

“Oof, if even he noticed I must have been really obvious.”

“Not obvious enough for me.”

“You’re a special case,” he teases, tapping his thumb against Felix’s hand.

“So,” he murmurs, shy suddenly, “how long? Have you, uh, been interested?”

Sylvain’s face reddens again, and he ducks his head a little. “Hmm… well, how long have we known each other?”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Since I was born?”

“Well, okay, maybe not that long. But I definitely missed you a little too much when you started squiring in the west.”

“You…” Two years. Two years he could have had Sylvain in his hands, in his arms, mutually in his heart instead instead of just in his dreams and in his fantasies of a future he thought could never happen. “You are the biggest fucking fool in Fodlan.”

“I know. But,” he adds, “I’m about to be single. So we can make it official then.”

Felix is the one blushing now, face pink all the way to his ears if the heat burning there is any indication. “Whatever,” he says, but he means _yes_ and Sylvain can always see through him anyway. “So tell me what tableau you have planned for when our friend gets here.”

“Oh, good call. They’ll be here soon.” He slides his hands off of Felix’s, looking around the room thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Hmm. This will actually be fine. Hop out of that chair unless you want me to crush you.”

“Definitely not. Wait, what?” But he rises, eyes suspicious, and Sylvain takes his spot, pulling him over his lap by his wrist.

Okay. So now Felix is straddling Sylvain, and that’s totally normal and fine, except it’s not because the skin at his wrists and under his collar heats up and blood pools low inside him. He doesn’t even what to imagine what would be happening if he were actually sitting in his lap rather than sort of awkwardly standing over it. Or maybe he does. Or maybe he has before. Ugh.

“I like this angle of you.” Sylvain smirks up at him. “Okay, this is really all I had dreamed up. We can figure out the rest, right?”

“I thought you had a grand plan, master tactician.”

“That’s Claude, not me. I’m just dumb old Sylvain,” he says, and Felix is having trouble thinking about anything other than how his neck is exposed at the opening of his uniform, how his fingers are still wrapped around his wrist, how much he wants to be kissing the self-deprecation right out of his mouth. Which is luckily the next part of the plan.

He takes a second to work up the courage to say something marginally nice. After all this he deserves that much, at least. “My dumb old Sylvain,” is what he settles for, but the little gasp he hears as he takes Sylvain’s face in his hands and leans down makes him think it was the right choice.

The first kiss is long, lazy, Sylvain’s fingers nesting in the knot of Felix’s bun, his lips smiling against Felix’s, cheeks creasing against his palms. He pulls back and Felix frowns. “Sorry, I know there’s a plan but I just wanted to say… I liked that.”

“The kiss?”

“Now who’s dumb? No, although that was nice too. I mean what you said. I liked it.”

“Don’t get used to it. And stop talking.”

“Right.” And he grins, tugging on Felix’s hair to pull their mouths back together.

Time goes by, Felix doesn’t know or care how much as their lips move in and out of sync, every way two people can kiss. Sylvain’s hands slide down to grip his hips, pulling their bodies together until Felix is perched in his lap, feet caught in the crossbars of the chair, arms wound around Sylvain’s neck with a tenderness that might be embarrassing in other circumstances.

Then other circumstances arise.

“Sylvain?”

Right, the plan. Felix jerks back, playing his part a little too realistically, to face Claude and Dimitri with a visage that is surely as red as a poppy. The boar’s eyes look ready to pop out of his head.

“Uh, hey your highness,” Sylvain says, theatrically loud, and his face is a little red too. Maybe something to do with the pressure Felix has increasingly been feeling against the inside of his thigh. His own brain is working furiously to picture something, anything, less hot than Sylvain disheveled underneath him. Looking at Dimitri is starting to do the trick. “What’s up?”

“How dare you treat his highness like this?” Claude asks, voice scandalized, unlike the twinkle in his eye. Outside the carefully-left-open window, Felix can hear murmuring, the early turning of the rumor mill. Good.

“Yes,” Dimitri agrees, drawing out the word incredulously. “Explain yourself.”

Sylvain shrugs. “You know me, I’m just not a one-man guy.”

“You’d better be,” Felix mutters, participating. “Listen, boar, back off. It’s over.”

“Hey, let’s talk this out,” Claude says, performative, hand on Dimitri’s back to push him into the room and shutting the door behind him. The window follows. “Wow, you two are good. Very believable.” He winks.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dimitri asks. “Are you two… I never thought this would actually happen! Congratulations.” Felix feels his face heating up yet again.

“Yeah, congrats you two. Now, Felix, can you let Sylvain up? I really do want to get a game in before I go to bed. Then you two can go back to making out.”

“You’re both insufferable.” But he does stand up, disgusted by how smug Sylvain looks. “Least compelling public breakup ever.”

Dimitri shrugs, sitting on Sylvain’s bed behind where Claude is at his leisure on the floor by the board. He leans back to rest his head against the boar’s leg, winking up at him before sitting back up, and Felix rolls his eyes at how red Dimitri goes.

“Don’t go too far, okay?” Sylvain calls after him, and he grins but it’s goofy and his eyes are soft.

Felix drops next to Dimitri. “I’m right here, idiot.”

And it’s at that moment that the most shocking thing happens, the strangest thing out of all the strange things that have gone on in the strangest Red Wolf Moon in Fodlan’s history. The boar turns to Felix, smiles, and says: “I told you so.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is ever-so-vaguely based on the ending of sylvain and dimitri’s b-support, but in my head the conversation went i guess a little differently behind closed doors. hmm. thank you for reading!


End file.
